


Espressophile

by otayuriistheliteralbest



Series: espresso your love [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Viktuuri - Freeform, Blow Jobs, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Confessions, Consent is Sexy, Deepthroating, Espresso Machines, Explicit Consent, First Kiss, Fluff, I hate that they made me misspell Viktor's name for the characters list..., Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Otabae, POV Otabek Altin, Pining, Social Media, but not to the point I'll tag it in Relationships?, latte art, like me, otabek has a sweet tooth, otayuri - Freeform, responsible otabek, yuri is addicted to proper lattes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-12 16:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/otayuriistheliteralbest
Summary: Prequel to Freshly Ground Beans, in which Otabek discovers Yuri's obsession with espresso.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will cover the span of several years, and includes CONFESSIONS and PINING. Because I eat that shit up. ;D I...don't think the rating will be going up. EDIT: The rating went up *hides face in hands* Smut in Chapter 3!
> 
> Thank you as always to Sasha for beta'ing my fics!! <3

Otabek noticed Yuri’s obsession with coffee the first time he visited the other skater in St. Petersburg. The moment they had dropped Otabek’s bags off at Yuri’s apartment, the blond dragged him bodily out the door and down the street to a local corner cafe. Yuri ordered for them in rapid-fire Russian, pausing only to ask what Otabek would like, grimacing at the dark-haired man’s response of a “vanilla latte.” Otabek’s Russian was very rusty, but he was determined to improve it simply for the fact that he could tell Yuri was making fun of him to the barista, who covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing. He could see the crinkle in her eyes and knew she was grinning.

The seventeen-year-old Russian skater stared with rapt attention at the barista’s hands as she went through the motions of preparing their drinks, fascinated by the dance of tamping the grounds and steaming milk.

The pair gathered up their drinks when the barista finished making them and sat at a tiny table outside the cafe, where they could watch people pass by on their way to work, appointments, and “ _the unknown_ ,” Yuri stage-whispered dramatically. They would point out passersby, guessing at their jobs or destinations, the skaters’ ideas becoming more wild and outrageous as time went on.

They sipped at their caffeinated beverages, relaxing and enjoying their time together. This was a first for them, during the off-season and away from competitions for a while to just _be_ with each other.

Eventually, Yuri started fidgeting with his nearly-empty coffee cup.

“How can you stand drinking that syrupy crap?” He blurted out. Blushing, he quickly looked down at the cup in his hands.

Otabek glanced at his own half-drunk vanilla latte and grinned devilishly at his best friend. Without breaking eye contact, the Kazakh skater lifted the cup to his mouth and drained the rest of his drink. He set the cup back on its saucer with a clatter and swiped his tongue at the foam that stuck to his upper lip from the latte.

“Mmmmmm, _delicious_ ,” Otabek said.

Yuri pretended to gag. “Oh, _God_ , don’t _do_ that to me, Beka! SO GROSS. How could you ruin a perfectly good latte like that?”

Otabek shrugged and swished the little stirring spoon around his empty cup, gathering up the foam that had stayed behind in the cup. He popped the spoon into his mouth, humming lightly.

“I don’t know, it just tastes better this way to me. Coffee’s so bitter, it’s better with a little something in it.” He paused, Yuri’s words catching up to him. “Wait, what did you call me?”

Yuri froze, then glanced up at the dark-haired man. “Uhm…. I called you Beka?”

Otabek laughed and set the spoon back in his cup. “My little sister is the only one who’s ever called me that.”

“Oh...I didn’t mean anything by it, it just slipped out…” Yuri stumbled over his words, trying to fix his embarrassing slip of the tongue.

“No no, it’s okay,” Otabek reassured him. “I like it. You can call me Beka.”

The Russian skater let out a breath, blowing his bangs briefly out of his jade eyes.

“You sure?” Yuri asked.

“Absolutely,” the Kazakh responded, smiling. “I like it.”

The blond grinned back up at him. “Good, because I’ve been calling you that in my head for a while… it’d be hard to break the habit now.”

Otabek quirked an eyebrow at Yuri. “Oh really?”

Yuri drank the last of his latte and stood up, quickly shoving his metal chair back from the table. “Yeah, really. Ready to go explore St. Petersburg, Beka?”

“Sure thing, _Yura_ ,” the dark-haired man responded, making the other skater stumble, blushing furiously.

\---

The second time Otabek noticed his best friend’s obsession with espresso, they were at Worlds in London and his friend was ranting about how he couldn’t find a good cafe to save his _life_ and was going to die of bad lattes. The Kazakh skater cringed at Yuri’s loud voice, thankful that the man was speaking in Russian. Otabek was getting better at understanding the language in the past year, even if he did stumble over his words when speaking to Yuri from time to time.

“Yura, calm down,” Otabek told him in Russian. “It’s no good getting worked up. Maybe we can find someplace with better coffee?” 

They were standing in the hotel lobby, which was not the best location in the world to be talking. Otabek didn’t want anyone who spoke Russian to come by and overhear his best friend insulting the country’s ability to make lattes. 

Yuri huffed and crossed his tiger print-clad arms, pouting. The expression was not a dignified one for an eighteen-year-old to wear, and it made Otabek chuckle.

“Come on, Тигрёнок, let’s go find you some coffee before you explode.” The Kazakh skater wrapped an arm around Yuri’s shoulders, pretending not to notice the blush that formed on the younger man’s cheeks at the term of endearment. 

In the past year, the pair had been skyping more and more often, sometimes every night if they could manage it. Otabek had noticed his best friend’s shoulders broadening, his voice growing deeper, and there was a spark in his eyes that made the Kazakh’s heart do somersaults in his chest. He didn’t know what the other man felt for him, if it was just platonic love Yuri felt for his best friend, but Otabek was willing to stretch their boundaries to see if it could be something more. And if not...well, the Russian man didn’t ever need to know about his best friend’s feelings.

Yuri didn’t say anything about the nickname. He also didn’t remove Otabek’s arm from around his shoulder, though, which the Kazakh took to be a very good sign.

Otabek grinned at the blond, who was now the same height as him. “Let’s see if we can find a local cafe, yeah? I’m sure that _something_ will be to your tastes.”

Yuri smiled tentatively back at his best friend. “Want to place a bet on that?” He asked.

Otabek raised his free hand to his face, tapping a finger against his chin. “Very well, what would you like to wager?”

“Winner gets to make the loser do something,” the Russian skater responded. “Nothing embarrassing or in public, but it’s up to the winner to decide.”

“Deal,” Otabek responded quickly, already formulating a plan.

\---

They managed to find a cafe a ten minute walk from the hotel that reminded Otabek of the cafe Yuri had taken him to in St. Petersburg the previous summer. He had released his arm from around the blond’s shoulders during their walk, and when he saw the little cafe, he reached out and grabbed Yuri’s hand, tugging him along.

The cafe was very small, the smallest cafe Otabek had ever seen while still having seating inside. There was one lone table that could fit two people, and they squeezed themselves in. Otabek walked up to the counter to order their drinks. An old man stood behind the counter, rummaging through tea tins on shelves that lined the entire wall.

“Hello there, boys. What’ll it be?” The old man asked.

Otabek took a quick look at Yuri, who was tapping away at his phone and not paying attention to them. The Russian skater didn’t speak English very well, and Otabek used that to his advantage.

“Can you make a latte for my friend here? He’s Russian and we have a bet going - he thinks that lattes here aren’t as good as in Russia, and I want to prove him wrong.” He grinned at the proprietor, who gave him a crooked grin in return. 

“A bet, is it?” The old man said. “Don’t you worry, I’ll make the best damn coffee he’s had in his life. What about you, then?”

“Can I have a mocha? I have more of a sweet tooth,” Otabek responded, still smiling.

“Sure thing, my boy. You just sit tight and I’ll whip those up for you in a jiffy.”

The Kazakh skater paid for their two drinks and sat back down with Yuri. Not too long after, the old man set two mugs down in front of the pair with a flourish. The blond’s eyes widened in shock and he sat up straight. His drink’s foam held an intricate tiger’s head design in it, down to the whiskers and glaring eyes. Otabek looked down at his mocha and snorted, covering the grin on his face. There, in little chocolate shavings and foam, was what could only be described as an adorable little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bow tie.

“Enjoy!” The old man said cheerily, then went back behind the counter to continue sorting his teas, whistling to himself.

Yuri quickly tilted the cups at an angle to each other and snapped a picture of their foam art, tapping on the screen to check that the photo was clear before putting it away.

“They’re too pretty not to have a photo...even if they may taste like crap,” he said in response to Otabek’s quirked eyebrow.

“How about we find out, then?” The dark-haired man asked, picking up the mocha with the teddy bear design and raising it to his lips.

Yuri grabbed his latte, admiring the fierce tiger face once more before taking a tentative sip. He _moaned_ before managing to stifle his reaction, eyes closed tightly as he savored the delicious drink. 

Otabek’s mocha was very good, and he glanced over to the cafe’s proprietor, giving the man a thumbs-up. The old man grinned and returned the gesture before turning his back on the pair to give them some privacy.

“Well?” Otabek asked his friend, who was holding the tiger latte to his lips, sipping slowly with a look of pure joy on his face.

Yuri popped one eye open, attempting and failing to glare at his best friend. “You win. This is the best latte I’ve ever had.” He closed his eye again and took another sip of his latte, sighing contentedly.

Otabek chuckled, sipping his mocha, reveling in his success. Internally, he was torn. He had won the bet, which meant that he could make Yuri do something. His hormone-addled mind was more than willing to offer up some suggestions for what he could ask his best friend to do; Otabek could never voice those ideas aloud, at least not unless they were actually _dating_.

They finished up their drinks, chatting about how they expected Worlds to go and who they thought would be their competition to reach the podium that year. Yuri tapped away at his phone, adding a filter to his picture of their drinks and tagging Otabek in the photo.

\---

**Yuri-Plisetsky         3m**

[[Two white coffee cups are set at an artistic angle, stirring spoons set on the cups’ saucers. The two cups have beautiful designs on them - the one in the foreground is a highly detailed tiger, its mouth open in a roar. Next to it, a little blurred from the angle, is an adorable teddy bear wearing a top hat and a striped bow tie. The teddy bear’s accessories are made out of chocolate syrup and chocolate shavings.]](https://otayuriwriterscollective.tumblr.com/image/159038654953)

phichit+chu, christophe-gc, and 1,216 others liked this

‘@otabekaltin won our bet and managed to find a cafe in London that knows how to make real lattes! (tiger emoji) (bear emoji) (coffee emoji) <3’

 **phichit+chu** SO CUTE!!! Can they make foam hamsters??? (heart eyes emoji)  
**mila_babidoll** Ooooooooh a bet??? Do tell, Yuratchka! ;)  
**yuris-angels123** OMG IT’S SO ADORABLE. @yuriangelnumber1 LOOK!!!

\---

The two skaters waved goodbye to the old man as they left the cafe, the bell above the door jangling as they walked out into the crisp London air. 

“I guess we should head back to the hotel now, huh?” Yuri asked.

“It’s still three days before the competition, and it’s still...early-ish,” Otabek said, looking at the time on his phone. “Why don’t we walk around for a little bit?”

Yuri nodded his assent, and they wandered around London, sticking to the streets so they wouldn’t stray too far from their hotel. They both had to be back to the rink to practice for Worlds later that afternoon, but until then they just enjoyed their time, taking photos and laughing with each other.

At one point during their walk, Yuri grew pensive. They were in a park somewhere, and there were other people scattered about on the paths, but they were alone for the most part. 

“What’s up, Yura? Is something wrong?” Otabek asked, concern lacing his voice.

Yuri shook his head, seemingly to break out of his reverie, and stepped closer to the Kazakh skater until he was less than a foot away.

“It’s nothing, Beka, it’s just… you won our bet,” the blond said quietly. “What are you going to make me do? I’d rather just get it over with. I’m not going to be able to focus on the competition, otherwise.”

Not really thinking about his words, Otabek jokingly said, “Well, I was thinking of telling you to kiss me, but-”

His sentence was cut off by the feeling of lips on his and the press of the Russian’s warm frame against his body. All he could feel was shock before he wrapped his arms around the bundle of surprise that was Yuri Plisetsky, returning his best friend’s kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Тигрёнок = “little tiger” in Russian.
> 
> EDITED TO ADD: OH RIGHT, here's the inspiration for Yura and Beka's latte art! I made Yuri's a tiger, but got the idea from a lion design I saw.
> 
> Lion: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/5c/75/4d/5c754d3bdd0fc93d9d6d8065c139cbbf.jpg  
> Bear: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/25/8a/e6/258ae6710f4404237c8362637ad3bd85.jpg
> 
> @eclair on Tumblr did this AMAZING watercolor of Yuri's instagram post! I linked it in the fic, and here it is as well: https://otayuriwriterscollective.tumblr.com/image/159038654953 IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! *cries*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worlds ends and Otabek decides to take a surprise trip to St. Petersburg...

Otabek was… mildly confused. He was standing in the middle of a park in London, days before Worlds, after wandering for hours around the city with his best friend… And they were kissing. The comment he had made as a joke to his friend had turned into something more than he could have ever imagined or hoped for, and he didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to stop and have to talk about what was happening because it may crush him to find out that Yuri only thought of him as a friend, or worse: that he _did_ love Otabek as fiercely as the Kazakh man loved him, and they would have to contend with a long distance relationship.

Yuri gasped lightly for air as they broke apart, panting. Stunned by what just happened, the pair stood staring at one another for far too long.

“I-I… uhm,” Otabek started, unsure what to say.

Yuri released a huff of air, raking his hand through shoulder-length blond hair. He looked away from Otabek, down at the ground where he couldn’t see how dark his best friend’s eyes were, the rough red lips that he had kissed.

“Sorry,” the Russian skater mumbled. “I-I just heard what you said and reacted on instinct.”

Otabek’s heart was pounding in his chest. If there could be a chance - he had to take it. Now was the only time he could screw up his courage to ask.

“Yura, how do you feel about me?” He asked gently, afraid of scaring the other man off.

Wide green eyes shot up to his face, and Yuri tugged on his hair with one hand, twirling a lock of it anxiously between his fingers.

When the blond couldn’t bring himself to respond, Otabek reached out to the other skater, his hand resting on Yuri’s jaw and brushing his thumb against Yuri’s cheek. Otabek stepped closer to this tiger-clad man who was now a bundle of nerves.

“What do you want from me, Yurochka?” The Kazakh man’s voice hitched.

Yuri covered Otabek’s hand on his cheek with his own hand, leaning in to the touch.

“I don’t know, Beka,” he responded honestly. “You’re my best friend, and yet - I-I haven’t felt like this about anyone before. I just know that you’re the most important person to me. You’re the first person I think about in the morning, and the last one I talk to at night. I can’t think of a time when my world didn’t revolve around hearing from you, knowing where you are and what you’re doing. I don’t know if this is lo-love--,” he stumbled over the word. “--but I think I want to find out. Is that okay? Is that - is that enough?”

The Russian skater looked up, his green eyes searching for some kind of sign in Otabek’s expression; something that said he was enough for his best friend. The dark-haired man closed his eyes briefly, but when he felt Yuri start to pull away, he tugged the blonde until their bodies were flush against one another again. He covered Yuri’s mouth with his in a fierce kiss that didn’t break until they were both breathless.

Otabek leaned his forehead against his best friend’s and murmured, “For now, Yura, that is more than enough for me.”

\---

Yuri and Otabek went back to the cafe every morning of Worlds, as well as in the afternoons when they found the time. The old man greeted them as if he had known them for years and continued to amaze them with his latte art. Yuri would stand at the counter to watch the man create masterpieces out of foam. By the end of the competition, Yuri’s instagram account was a solid wall of latte art and photos of him and Otabek sightseeing around London. The last photo he posted in London was of the two of them standing tall on the podium, gold around Yuri’s neck, silver around Otabek’s.

\---

**Yuri-Plisetsky           21m**

[A screenshot from official Worlds coverage on Ice Network, Yuri stands tall in the middle of the podium, gold medal around his neck. He waves a gloved hand overhead at the crowd. To his side stands Otabek, his well-deserved silver medal gleaming on his chest. A small smile graces his face as he stares up at the Russian skater, pride in his eyes. They are holding hands.]

mila_babidoll, v-nikiforov, and 10,391 others liked this

‘Standing tall with my best friend, the best person in the world, @otabekaltin. (thumbs up emoji)’

**mila_babidoll** Поздравляю, Yuri!  
**yuriangelnumber1** (trophy emoji) CONGRATS YURI! @yuris-angels123 *shrieking noises*  
**yuris-angels123** HE WON HE WON HE WON!!!!

\---

After Worlds, Otabek and Yuri continued their routine of texting and skyping as often as they could. They shared everything with each other, sending photos back and forth throughout their days. The Kazakh skater noticed over time that Yuri would take a photo like clockwork every morning at the little corner cafe by his apartment, bleary-eyed and grasping a mug tightly in his hand like it was a life preserver. The thought made the Kazakh skater laugh, but it also got him thinking.

They didn’t necessarily _hide_ their relationship from the world, but the pair didn’t advertise it wildly, either. Their fans and the news were so used to their friendship after so many years that they didn’t bat an eyelid at their posts on social media, or even the hand-holding at Worlds. It was a bit of a relief to the both of them because they were able to explore their newfound relationship without scrutiny.

The moment the off-season hit, Otabek was already searching for flights to St. Petersburg. He thought it was miserable being away from his best friend before, but now… whatever they were, whatever _more_ they had become, just talking on the phone and photos weren’t enough for him anymore.

Otabek talked to Viktor and Yuuri, swearing them to secrecy, to figure out what the blond’s schedule was going to be like, and booked the next possible flight to St. Petersburg in two weeks. Thirteen days, five hours, and sixteen minutes, if he were being precise. Which he wasn’t.

The Kazakh skater continued to skype and text with Yuri as if everything were normal and he went about his daily life, not letting even a hint of his trip slip when they spoke. On the day of his departure, Otabek called Yuri before heading to the airport. It rang only once before the blond picked up.

“Hey, Beka, what’s up?” Yuri asked, sounding breathless.

Otabek smiled at the image in his head of the other man scrambling to answer his phone.

“Not much, Yura,” he responded. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m going to be out of cell service for a while today, and so this will probably be our only chance to talk til tonight.” 

The dark-haired man could practically _hear_ the moue of disappointment Yuri’s face was making. Otabek smiled, knowing that this evening all of that would change.

“That sucks. What are you up to today?” Yuri asked.

“I’m going on a bike ride with some of my friends,” Otabek said smoothly. He had practiced the lie until it sounded almost natural to his ears. Yuri thankfully didn’t pick up on it.

“Ahhh, that sounds like fun,” the blond responded. “I’m in the rink this afternoon, but I’m going to be spending my evening with Viktor and the Katsudon. They invited me over to dinner, and they’re going to cook some of Yuuri’s mom’s dishes I’ve been craving.”

Otabek started wandering around his apartment while they talked, making sure that he had everything that he would need for his trip in his suitcase. He was going to be in Russia for a week. Satisfied, the Kazakh man zipped up the simple black suitcase decisively, nodding his head to Yuri over the phone, forgetting for a second that the Russian skater couldn’t see him. 

Chuckling to himself, Otabek said, “Yura, I have to go now. I’ll talk to you this afternoon when I get back into cell service? It should be before your dinner.”

Yuri hmmmed at the other man over the phone. “Okay...I guess I can let you go. Have fun with your friends, Beka. Take lots of pictures to send me when you can!”

“I will, Yuri. I’ll talk to you later.” Otabek practically grinned at his phone as he disconnected the call. Still smiling to himself, he called a taxi to pick him up and take him to the airport.

\---

Snagging a nonstop flight from Almaty to St. Petersburg, Otabek managed to sleep the entire flight over. He yawned and stretched as he made his way out of the plane, shuffling along behind other travellers. The Kazakh turned on his cell phone immediately after he got through customs. Ignoring the notifications that blipped up when his phone connected, he instead called Viktor.

“Hi Viktor...yeah, I just got through customs. I just need to pick up my suitcase. Yeah, I can meet you at baggage claim...okay, I’ll see you soon. Mmhmm. Okay. Okay, bye.”

Otabek could practically _feel_ his body humming with excitement. In just a short while, he would be reunited with his Yuri. The dark-haired man picked up his bag from the conveyor belt and scanned the crowd, looking for the platinum-headed Viktor. He suddenly spotted an arm waving frantically in his direction from the crowded room, and yes, there was Viktor.

“OTABEK!” Viktor shouted, one hand cupped to his mouth while continuing to wave. The Kazakh man glanced from side to side, embarrassed, but made his way through to where the retired Russian skater was waiting for him.

“Hey. Thanks for picking me up,” Otabek said to the all-too-cheerful Viktor Nikiforov. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes that he hadn’t managed to shake yet, and was pulled in for a giant unexpected hug by the other man. The Kazakh man awkwardly patted Viktor’s back and broke away as quickly as he could.

“Not a problem, not a problem at all!” Viktor crowed cheerfully. “I’m sure that Yurio will be over the moon to see you when you arrive.”

“So, he still has no idea?” Otabek asked tentatively.

“Not a clue,” the Russian man said. He tilted his head and tapped a finger against his chin. “I think! He’s with Yuuri at our apartment right now, and thinks I’m out running errands - very _long_ errands. Let’s get going.”

Viktor grabbed Otabek’s rolling suitcase and dragged it behind them as he marched them off to the parking garage and the Russian man’s waiting car. Otabek cringed at the sight of the _pink_ convertible, but there was nothing he could do about it. This car and this man would take him to his Yuri.

A long car ride with an overly-cheerful Viktor only increased Otabek’s nerves. He grew more and more quiet until he finally nodded off in the passenger-side seat, his head lolling against the headrest as the wind whipped around them.

Eventually, a hand gently nudged his shoulder, waking him from slumber. He jerked upright, shaking his head to rid his brain of sleep.

“We’re here,” Viktor said quietly.

Otabek unfastened his seatbelt and opened the car door. Glancing around, he noticed they were in a large, sprawling apartment complex that looked _very_ modern and _very_ pricey. Otabek wasn’t surprised in the least that Viktor, a 5-Time Gold Medal Worlds Champion, lived in such a lavish place.

The Kazakh skater stood up, groaning and cracking his back. He was more exhausted than he would care to admit.

“We’ll just leave your bag in the trunk for now, if you’re okay with that,” Viktor said. “Since I’m sure you’ll be staying with Yuri, there’s no point in moving it twice.”

Otabek nodded at the older man and stretched quickly, getting the blood flowing back in his arms and legs.

“Shall we?” Viktor asked, motioning for them to go up the stairs to his second-floor apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Поздравляю = “congratulations” in Russian. Thank you to @lowercase for confirmation of the spelling for me!
> 
> Thank you again to the fantastic Sasha for all your edits! This fic would probably have some odd grammar if it weren't for you. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always almost forget to thank Sasha. THANK YOU SASHA FOR BETA'ING FOR ME!!!! Also fair warning: LOTS OF SMUT in this chapter! ;DDD Enjoy!

Viktor turned the key in the lock and ducked his head into the apartment. It was open-concept, like most of the apartments in the complex. Yuuri stood at the stove stirring a pot of soup while Yuri sprawled out on the couch, perusing Instagram on his phone. The two glanced up at Viktor in the doorway, and the blond went back to scrolling on his phone.

“Welcome back, Viktor!” Yuuri shouted cheerfully from the kitchen, waving the spoon in his hand carelessly, splattering the tiled floor with udon broth. “Did you pick up what we needed from the store?”

“That and then some,” Viktor responded, swinging the door open wide and pushing the Kazakh man in front of him. Viktor struck a dramatic TA-DA! pose beside Otabek, who had a nervous-but-excited expression on his face.

Yuri’s phone slipped from his fingers to the couch cushions as he jerked up into a sitting position.

“ _ **Beka**_?” He shrieked.

“Surprise?” Otabek said, waving a hand tentatively.

Yuri jumped off of the couch and practically lunged across the short space into the Kazakh man’s arms, crying into his neck. Viktor closed the door and moved out of the entryway and into the kitchen to give the young skaters some space.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Yuri asked, his voice thick with happy tears.

Otabek pulled back from their embrace and brushed blond hair back from the other man’s face, wiping the tear tracks with his thumb. He smiled gently at Yuri.

“I couldn’t stand not seeing you for so long,” the Kazakh man said simply. “So I talked with Viktor and Yuuri and figured out the soonest that I could come out to visit.”

“How long are you here?” Yuri whispered, tugging on the lapel of Otabek’s leather jacket.

“A week. I was only able to get that long off because it’s the beginning of off-season, but I wanted to be with you as long as I could and-” Otabek’s rambling was cut off by Yuri’s mouth on his. Otabek smiled into the kiss, shifting his hand from the other man’s cheek to the back of his head, tangling his fingers in long blond hair and holding him close. Yuri was getting into a habit of shutting Beka up with kisses, but the Kazakh skater decided that he didn’t really mind, not when it meant an armful of Russian Skater. 

A throat cleared behind Yuri, and the blond broke off the kiss, twisting in Beka’s arms to find a _very_ flushed Viktor and Yuuri standing awkwardly in the kitchen. They had set the table for four while the other two men had been... busy.

“ _Gomen nasai_ ,” Yuuri said, one hand in front of his red face as he bowed slightly. “Dinner is ready, and I thought Otabek might be hungry after his long day of traveling.”

Yuri humfphed and grabbed Otabek’s hand, leading him over to the small four-person dining room table. He refused to let go now that the Kazakh was there in the flesh, as if letting go of his hand would cause him to disappear into thin air.

It made eating udon very difficult, but Otabek managed it with a smile on his face.

\---

Yuri fumbled with his keys in the lock behind him, trying to unlock the door to his apartment while keeping his lips locked with Otabek’s. The Kazakh man groaned into Yuri’s mouth as he pressed his boyfriend against the door, grinding himself against the other man so that he would know just how turned on he was. 

The blond gasped and gave a triumphant “a-ha!” as the key slide home. He kicked open the door of his apartment, stumbling backwards down his hallway as he tugged Otabek along by his belt. They barely had the wherewithal to close the door behind them. The dark-haired man growled in frustration when they almost actually _fell_ over a chair on the side of the hallway and picked Yuri up, wrapping the other man’s legs around his waist. He was thankful that he had visited Yuri the year before so knew exactly where the bedroom was. 

Slamming the bedroom door behind them, the Kazakh skater laid the horny Russian man on the bed, settling himself on top of Yuri. The blond’s hands roamed over Otabek’s shoulders, back, waist, ghosting over his ass, as they continued to kiss frantically.

Otabek broke from the kiss, gasping, “What do you want, Yura?”

“I want you,” the blond responded, “I want all of you, Beka.”

Otabek’s throat emitted a guttural noise as he hurriedly unzipped his jacket, throwing it roughly to the ground. His shirt quickly followed. He then tugged at Yuri’s black t-shirt, pulling it over the other man’s head. He was too focused on the squirming man beneath him to care as he heard the fabric tear.

The Kazakh planted kisses along Yuri’s jawline and down his neck, wanting to taste and touch every part of him.

Yuri fumbled to undo his jeans, shoving them down his legs. Otabek helped him to push them down the rest of the way and cursed - they were both still wearing their shoes. The Kazakh stood and kicked his running shoes off and then tugged at the shoes on Yuri’s feet, taking them and the jeans off in one fell swoop.

Otabek stood back up and paused, drinking in the sight of Yuri splayed out on black cotton sheets. The other man was panting hard, one arm raised over his head. His cheetah print boxers were tented in the front, and it sent a jolt to Otabek’s groin. He knelt over Yuri, his fingers tracing the edge of the blond’s boxers, slightly dipping under the elastic.

“Can I take these off?” The Kazakh asked, his breath shaky.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri whispered. “ _Please_.”

Otabek didn’t have to be told a second time. He tore the animal print boxers off the other man and tossed the pieces of fabric over his shoulder to the floor.

“Hey!” Yuri protested. “Those were my favorite pair.”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Otabek shrugged and then nipped his way up Yuri’s thighs, stifling the other man’s complaints. He settled himself between the blond’s legs and licked a long stripe with his tongue from balls to tip. 

Yuri brought his hands to the back of Otabek’s head, carding his fingers through the man’s short hair, urging him on.

“Don’t - ah - don’t stop, Beka,” he gasped out.

Otabek grinned and swirled his tongue around the head of Yuri’s cock, teasing him. When the blond’s hands gripped his head tighter, the Kazakh man stopped his teasing. He opened his mouth and plunged down on Yuri, hollowing out his cheeks. Otabek bobbed his head up and down, taking the other man in a little further each time until he hit the back of his throat; Otabek was thankful that he didn’t have a gag reflex. The blond’s legs curled as he gasped at the sensation.

“O-otabek, stop or I’m going to--” Yuri tried to say, but Otabek doubled his efforts until the blond came. The dark-haired man held Yuri’s hips still, swallowing every drop. When there was nothing left, Otabek released the other man’s cock with a wet pop and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning up at the loose-limbed blond.

“Get up here,” Yuri ordered and patted the spot beside him on the bed. Otabek shimmied his way up the bed until he was lying next to Yuri, who curled up into him. The blond burrowed his face into the Kazakh’s bare chest, then gasped and sat up abruptly, barely missing hitting Otabek’s jaw with his head.

“Hey, no fair,” he said. “You’re still wearing your pants!”

Otabek chuckled. “I suppose you were a little...distracted...to notice.”

Yuri puffed out his cheeks. “We’ll see about distractions…” He unbuckled the other man’s belt, not bothering to slide it out of the belt loops. The blond made quick work of Otabek’s pants, and tugged them and the man’s boxers off his legs, letting the clothing fall in a heap on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

Otabek groaned and covered his face with one hand as the blond man grasped his hard length and stroked, cupping his balls with the other hand.

“Beka?” Yuri said nervously.

“Hmm?” The Kazakh responded.

“I want to… I want you i-inside me,” the blond stuttered. He still held Otabek’s cock and looked almost hesitant as his jade eyes stared into Otabek’s dark ones. 

“Are you sure?” Otabek asked. He knew from personal experience that _saying_ you were ready was an entirely different thing from actually _being_ ready.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri said. “I’ve _been_ ready. I think about you when I - when I touch myself.” He blushed.

“Do you have lube? Condoms?” The Kazakh asked.

Yuri released Otabek’s cock and stretched, cat-like and deliciously naked, to open the drawer in his nightstand, pulling out the aforementioned items. He smiled ruefully at Otabek.

“I… may have been planning this for a while...not that I knew you were going to surprise me and visit,” he said to the mildly-surprised skater.

Otabek grinned broadly at the Russian man and plucked the lube and condom from his hand.

“Well, then,” he murmured, “if you’ve been planning this…” The dark-haired man trailed off and leaned over to kiss Yuri, shifting his body until he was once again lying on top of the him, covering the Russian’s naked body with his own. Otabek ground his hips against Yuri’s, making the other man gasp.

Otabek leaned on one elbow, tilting away from the body underneath him. Yuri mewled at the loss of warmth. The Kazakh chuckled and poured some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm them up. 

“Patience, Yura,” he said. His hand drifted down Yuri’s body, just out of reach but close enough that the Russian could feel the warmth coming off of his hand.

“Spread your legs for me, Yura,” Otabek murmured into the other man’s ear. Yuri moaned and complied, bending his right knee to give the dark-haired man better access. Otabek kissed the blond’s neck, nipping the juncture of neck and shoulder, as his hand trailed lower down Yuri’s body. The Kazakh pressed one slicked finger against Yuri’s hole, tracing circles until he felt the other man’s tense muscles relax. Otabek nudged one finger in slowly, allowing the Russian to grow accustomed to the penetrating feeling, before sliding in further until his finger was all the way in.

“Are you okay?” Beka asked. He didn’t want to hurt Yuri.

“I’m fine, it just...feels _very_ weird,” the Russian skater told him honestly.

Otabek chuckled in his ear. “Well, this will hurt a little. I’ll do my best to get you ready. Okay, Yura?”

Yuri tilted his head until he could look down at the other man’s eyes, a small smile on his face. “I trust you, Beka.”

The Kazakh’s eyes widened and he tilted his face to kiss Yuri soundly on the lips. He gradually added a second and third finger shallowly thrusting them into the other man, making him twitch. 

Otabek continued moving his fingers until he hit the exact spot inside Yuri he had been searching for - making the Russian man’s body jerk.

“Do that again!” Yuri gasped. Otabek smirked and repeated the movement, speeding up his hand. The Kazakh eventually had the blond writhing in his arms. 

“Dammit, Beka, will you please just fuck me already?” Yuri ground out, pressing down on the Kazakh’s fingers.

Otabek growled. “As you wish, Yura.” He pulled his fingers out of the other man, and Yuri gasped at the loss of Beka’s fingers. The dark-haired man grabbed the condom from where it had fallen in the bed and tore it open with his teeth. He rolled it down his length, and twisted his body so that he was on top of Yuri once more, kneeling between his legs.

Otabek tugged the Russian toward him and slicked his cock with more lube before settling himself against Yuri’s entrance.

“Ready?” He asked the blond.

“Yes, please Beka, _fuck me_ ,” Yuri gasped.

Otabek shifted, pushing the head of his cock into the Russian man as carefully as he could, letting Yuri relax his muscles to accommodate him.

The Kazakh released a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until he was fully seated inside his boyfriend.

“You okay?” Otabek asked. The other man was panting with his eyes shut tight.

“I-I’m okay,” Yuri said. “Just give me a minute.”

“Tell me when you want me to move again,” Otabek said. He was relieved that Yuri needed a moment - he didn’t think he would last long in the blond’s tight heat otherwise.

After a moment, the Russian skater nodded his head.

“Okay, you can move now, just...slowly? Please?” Yuri said.

“Of course, Yura.” Otabek leaned down to pull Yuri into a kiss and slid out part way before thrusting slowly back in. He settled into a steady rhythm until the blond was gasping - he had found Yuri’s sweet spot again and Otabek angled himself so that he hit it every time. The Russian man’s hands and nails roamed over his back, leaving scratches in their wake. Otabek knew would leave marks. He growled and bit Yuri’s neck, nipping and suckling, marking the blond as his.

“Faster, Beka!” Yuri moaned. The Kazakh picked up his pace until they were both gasping for air. Otabek kissed Yuri hungrily and reached between them to pump Yuri’s cock, making the Russian cry out. Yuri’s nails found purchase on Otabek’s back, leaving deep scratches in their wake as he came, cum spilling out over his stomach and the Kazakh’s hand.

Yuri clenched hard as he came, bringing Otabek over the edge as he thrust once, twice, and then stilled inside the other man.

Still breathing heavily, Otabek kissed Yuri softly. He slid out and pulled off the condom, throwing it away in the bin by the bed, then curled up around the boneless Russian man.

Yuri groaned and pushed himself up in the bed, shaking off Beka’s arms.

“Beka, that was fantastic,” he said, stretching his tired muscles, “but there is _no way_ that we are falling asleep covered in cum and sweat. Join me in the shower?”

The Russian man gave Otabek a coy smile.

Otabek propped himself up on one elbow, slicking back his sweat-soaked hair. “Hmmm… I suppose we _should_ clean ourselves off...wouldn't want to ruin your sheets.” 

The couple forced themselves out of bed and into the shower. Otabek decided that the sting of the steaming water on his back - covered in scratches - was worth it as he thrust into Yuri under the hot spray.

\---

Otabek had planned for the two of them to go out and visit the city with Yuri’s rink mates in the week that he visited St. Petersburg, but other than quick trips to the corner cafe and going on runs around the neighborhood, the two skaters didn't leave Yuri’s apartment until it was time for the Kazakh to fly back to Almaty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Yuuri is my fave. Next chapter is the last one (I think)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS HERE HAVE SOME SMUT. xD
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Sasha!

Otabek had been up since a little after five in the morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep well, and the rumpled covers pooled at the foot of his bed were proof of that. The Kazakh skater forced himself out of bed and trudged over to the worn red armchair in the corner of the bedroom. He spent a majority of his evenings sitting in that chair, chatting to Yuri until he couldn’t stay awake any longer, and would drag himself to his lonely bed.

Otabek ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He and Yuri had been dating long-distance for over a year, but it wasn’t enough. They were rarely able to see each other in person, and even then it would typically only be when they _happened_ to be at the same competitions together. He wanted more, and Otabek knew that his boyfriend wanted more, too.

The Kazakh man slammed his hands down on the arms of his overstuffed armchair, levering himself up so that he could stalk over to his phone where it was charging next to the bed. He hit speed-dial, calling his coach.

After a lengthy, tearful conversation, Otabek ended the emotional phone call. His head was buzzing with his coach’s reassuring words, and that was what made the next step a little easier. It was time to talk to a few more people, and there was no time like the present… The Kazakh skater squinted at the name in his contacts, sighed, and pressed Call. He just hoped Yakov Feltsman was a morning person.

\---

**Otabek**

Hey Yura, you up?

10:27am

 

**Yura**

Yeah, just got out of bed. What’s up?

10:29am

 

**Otabek**

Are you free to Skype?

10:30am

 

**Yura**

Sure, just gimme a sec. I’ll call you.

10:31am

\---

Otabek cracked open his laptop on the kitchen island, logging into Skype, and tapping his fingers nervously on the countertop. He took a long sip of water he poured from the tap; he was too nervous to eat anything just yet. Finally, the little picture of Yuri calling him popped up on his screen and he accepted immediately.

The other man was disheveled from sleep, his shoulder-length hair mussed. Yuri was still in bed, and his cat Princess was curled up on the pillow beside his head licking her paw. The Russian man cracked a smile the moment he saw Otabek appear.

“Hey there, beautiful,” the blond said, yawning. “What’s up?”

The Kazakh man gave Yuri a quick smile. “What would you say if I told you….” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “What would you say if I told you that Yakov has agreed to coach me?”

Yuri’s body jerked up and he stared wide-eyed at his boyfriend on the screen. “Wait, _what_?”

“I’m sick of being apart from you,” Otabek said. “It sucks only seeing you a few times a year with how busy we both are. I called my coach this morning, and while she wasn’t happy about it, she agreed that it was a good move to make. And Yakov was happy to take me on...in his own way, I guess. He said he’d send me a contract this week.”

Otabek’s heart thudded in his chest. Although his face didn’t show it, he was nervous. It was a big step to take, and if Yuri didn’t want him to move to St. Petersburg…

“You’re really moving here?” The Russian man asked. His voice sounded so small and innocent. “This isn’t some kind of joke? We’ll be able to see each other, be with each other, every day?”

Otabek broke out into a grin. “Yes, Yura, we’ll be together every single day. In the rink, out of the rink... I’m moving to Russia.”

Yuri’s face shone so bright in that moment.

“When can you move?”

\---

It took a while for everything to be settled, but Otabek finally moved to St. Petersburg during the off-season. Yuri pestered him until he agreed that finding his own apartment would be silly, and Otabek moved into the Russian man’s home the moment he arrived in the country. The only big ticket item that Otabek needed to move with him was his motorcycle; beyond that, he brought clothes, his DJ equipment and other electronics, and his skates. After that, he was all moved in.

The couple spent Otabek’s first week in St. Petersburg getting him situated. The Kazakh skater had moved around to new training facilities often enough in his career that he had a bit of a routine down by that point, but he loved being able to do everything with Yuri at his side.

After a particularly heated night where they almost forgot to use a condom, Otabek insisted that they get tested. He didn’t care if they used condoms or not - though he would prefer the latter - but didn’t want to take any chances. A week later, the results came in and they threw the remaining condoms in the trash and never went back.

A few weeks after the Kazakh skater arrived in Russia, he went out with Viktor to a kitchen and homegoods store to make one last purchase for the apartment while Yuri was out at ballet practice. Otabek was grateful that Viktor was so willing to go with him to make this purchase. For one, the package was too big to fit on his motorcycle, and for another Viktor was at ease with salespeople in a way Otabek could never be.

The older skater dropped Otabek off at the apartment and helped him carry the new gifts up the stairs. The Kazakh set everything up in the kitchen and placed a giant red bow on it, eventually stepping back to admire his work. Otabek soon heard the front door open, and he called out to Yuri before the blond could make it too far into the apartment.

“Yura, stay right there and close your eyes.”

“O...kay?” was the tentative response. Otabek chuckled and padded barefoot over the carpeted floor and around the bend to the hallway where Yuri stood just inside the door, his shoes shucked off, and his backpack leaning against the wall where he had just set it down. As requested, the man’s eyes were shut tight.

“What’s this about, Beka?” Yuri asked, curious.

“Do you trust me?” Otabek asked, grinning even though he knew the Russian couldn’t see him.

“Of course, Beka, you know that I do,” Yuri responded. Otabek could see him rolling his eyes under his closed lids.

“Good,” the Kazakh said. “I have my hands in front of you. Reach out and I’ll guide you.”

Yuri did as requested, his arms stretching out in front of him. Otabek grasped the blond’s hands in his and slowly walked backward, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Princess wouldn’t trip them as the Kazakh led his boyfriend into the kitchen.

He turned Yuri so that the Russian skater was facing the counter and said, “You can open your eyes now, Yura.”

The Russian skater did as he was told and gasped, clutching the edge of the counter. Sitting in front of him was the latest, state-of-the-art home espresso machine.

“You got me an espresso machine?” Yuri asked in awe, running careful fingers over the chrome machine.

Otabek grinned and leaned his hip against the counter next to Yuri. “Yes, I did.”

“ ** _You got me an espresso machine!_** ” The Russian shouted and turned, jumping into his boyfriend’s arms and wrapping his legs around the other man’s waist. Otabek had been prepared for this reaction and had already stood back up, bracing himself, so he didn’t topple over from the armful of an excited Yuri Plisetsky.

Otabek laughed and spun the other man around in his arms, settling the blond on the counter, his legs still around the Kazakh’s waist.

“Yes, love,” he said, still grinning, “I bought you an espresso machine. Now you can make all the lattes you want, even if the cafe on the corner is closed or you don’t want to leave the apartment.” Otabek lowered his voice, whispering into the other man’s ear, “You can even make lattes _naked_ if you want.”

Yuri peppered Otabek’s face with kisses, ending with a lingering kiss on the lips.

“I love it, Beka,” the blond said and kissed the Kazakh man again.

Otabek felt something hard rubbing against him and chuckled into the kiss.

“Are you getting turned on by an espresso machine, Yuri?” The Kazakh man asked teasingly. “Should I be jealous?”

Yuri rolled his eyes to the sky and stared pointedly at Otabek, grinding his hips against the other man.

“I’m _not_ turned on by the machine, you jackass. Just by the man who bought it for me.” The Russian raised his hands to cup Otabek’s jaw and kissed him passionately.

Otabek growled and lifted Yuri up from the counter, unwinding the blond’s legs from around his waist so that he could tug the other man’s sweatpants and boxers down in one movement, leaving them in a pile on the tiled kitchen floor.

His lips trailed kisses along Yuri’s jawline and dipped down to suckle on his favorite spot on the Russian man’s neck that was sure to make him squirm.

“Beka…” Yuri let out a breathy moan and clasped his hands behind Otabek’s neck, tugging the other man closer. “I need you.”

The Kazakh took a split second to think about their choices, glancing around the kitchen. He spotted the olive oil sitting next to the oven and grabbed the glass bottle.

“Olive oil?” Yuri asked skeptically, wrinkling his nose. “Really?”

“I don’t want to move,” Otabek replied, opening the bottle to pour oil on his fingers. He rubbed the viscous liquid between his fingers, testing it, and then poked at Yuri’s left leg with his clean hand.

“Spread your legs, Yuri,” the Kazakh ordered. Yuri complied immediately, scooting forward to give his boyfriend easier access. The blond leaned back so that his shoulders rested against the wooden kitchen cabinets behind him. He was already hard, and reached up absentmindedly to stroke himself.

Otabek grinned and pressed one oil-slicked finger against Yuri’s entrance, circling teasingly before pressing in. His finger slipped in easily, and he pumped it a few times then added a second finger. They didn’t need much prep time, but the Kazakh skater enjoyed tormenting Yuri with his fingers and angled them _just right_ so that he hit the blond’s sweet spot with each pass.

“Otabek, will you fucking _fuck me_ already?” Yuri keened, panting at the attention Otabek was giving his prostate.

“Well if you insist…” The Kazakh teased, leaning in to plant a heated kiss on Yuri’s lips. Otabek pulled his fingers out of the other man, making Yuri whine, and unzipped his jeans, tugging them down just far enough to slip his hard length out. He poured more oil on his hand, pumping his cock while the Russian sat on the counter, legs spread and panting with want. The look Yuri gave him was undeniably sexy, making Otabek shudder.

He lined himself up with Yuri’s entrance and thrust into the other man with one long movement, burying his cock in the blond. Yuri gasped at the feeling of being so suddenly _very full_ , gripping the back of Otabek’s t-shirt with both hands.

Yuri’s nails dug into the Kazakh’s back, spurring Otabek to move. He pulled out and thrust back in _hard_. The cabinets rattled as Otabek pounded into Yuri, going as fast and hard as he could. He was sure that the neighbors would be able to hear the cabinets shaking as Yuri shouted for more, but the Kazakh didn’t care.

Otabek gripped his hands tight on the blond’s hips and leaned down to suck on Yuri’s neck, leaving a mark where it would be clearly visible for everyone to see that this man was _his_ and his alone. The scratch marks that were almost permanent at this point on Otabek’s back were a point of pride to him, and he didn’t care who saw them in the locker rooms at the rink.

The Kazakh man could feel his orgasm building up and started kissing Yuri frantically, making the blond moan into his mouth. Sweat dripped down Otabek’s face as he came inside his boyfriend, letting out a deep moan. Yuri reached between them and pumped his cock rapidly until he spurted cum between their bodies, getting it on both their shirts. They panted heavily as they came down from their high.

Yuri started laughing, bowing his head to his chest.

“Well, that was...interesting,” he said.

Otabek grinned. “But not bad, right?”

“No no, definitely not bad. Very, very good,” the blond said, kissing his boyfriend gently. “But now I need a shower even more than before, and then I need to try out my present!”

Otabek slipped out of Yuri and let his jeans and boxers fall the rest of the way to the floor, shucking them away so that the olive oil smeared all over his cock wouldn’t ruin them.

“Let’s both shower, I should at least wipe myself off…” Otabek said, thinking aloud more than anything.

Yuri laughed and rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, hopping off the counter.

\---

Yuri’s first attempt at a latte...was a complete failure. As were his second and third. The third latte attempt had resulted in too much milk in the pitcher, and it had foamed up and out of the pitcher onto the counter. His fourth was almost palatable, but he’d steamed the milk too long and burned it. Otabek poured chocolate syrup into that one until he almost couldn’t taste the burnt flavor. The Kazakh sat at the counter, sipping his pseudo-mocha while Yuri watched videos on YouTube about how to steam milk. A chaos of espresso grounds and beans covered the counter around them.

After a _lot_ of experimentation and tears, Yuri finally made himself a latte that he liked. He cleaned the mess he’d made in the pursuit of making his first latte and then set his cup in front of the espresso machine to snap a photo to post on Instagram.

\---

**Yuri-Plisetsky                     13m**

[A blue coffee mug with a design of a lion in gold ink sits in front of a gleaming espresso machine, foam piled high above the brim.]

v-nikiforov, mila_babidoll, and 2,519 others liked this

‘@otabekaltin bought me an espresso machine!!! Best day EVER. Here is my first attempt at a latte. (coffee cup emoji) (sunglasses emoji)’

**v-nikiforov** I helped @otabekaltin pick it out! Glad you like it. :)  
**mila_babidoll** Oh you KNOW I’m coming over for coffee in the mornings!!  
**Yuri-Plisetsky** @mila_babidoll Get your own espresso machine, baba!  
**otabekaltin** You mean *5th* attempt, Yura. :P  
**yuris-angels123** (crying emoji) I want Yurochka to make me a coffee!!  
**Yuri-Plisetsky** @otabekaltin ...shut up or no disgusting sugary drinks for you.


End file.
